Solangelo Oneshots

Lemon Chocolate Guy

"He's your dad! Can't you stop him?" Nico hissed as he pressed himself against Will’s side and closed his eyes as if that could mute his hearing.

"No," Will murmured back. "He's really gotten into the flow now."

They were sitting at the campfire near the back. Ordinarily, Nico came to watch Will lead a singalong and then they would slip away after and leave the others to it. This time was different.

This time they were honoured by a visit for the all mighty and all sexy Apollo (Apollo's words not anyone else's) and Apollo had decided to bless the campers. He blessed them lengthly. The length was two hours and counting and the blessing was horrendous poetry.

"Oh what a baddie," Apollo declared.
"Is my dearest daddy
I have searched high and low
And not a place is untouched by his ego
He decided not to make Bessie dead
One of his kids came out of his head
He cheats on his wife a lot
Most of his kids' names he forgot
But he should win a prize
For letting the eyes
Rest so easily
On glorious me."

The campers all groaned and half heartedly clapped. Apollo beamed and cleared his throat.

"Thank you, thank you," he said. "And you're welcome. I have more poems, don't worry."

Nico contemplated stabbing himself with his sword. Will nudged him.

"Hey, Kayla and Austin owe me a favour for not telling Chiron that they broke the new kid's leg. They could cover for us and we could sneak out."

"Please," Nico said, gazing at his boyfriend with unparalleled adoration. Will winked and leaned forward to inform his siblings of their doom.

Nico wasted no time in grabbing Will’s hand and shadow travelling them to his cabin.

"What did I tell you about overexertion." Will crossed his arms. Nick shrugged, sitting down on his bed.

"You told me to use it in life or death situations. I was about to die of an exploded eardrum."

"I don't think that's a thing."

"It is now. Do you want cuddles or do you want your father's poetry?"

Will quickly caved and made himself comfortable beside Nico, who adjusted himself so that his back was pressing against Will’s chest, head tipped back to his boyfriend’s collarbone.

Nico sighed contentedly as Will’s arms wrapped comfortingly around him.

"You know, I love you despite your bad poetry skills," Nico teased. Will made an offended noise.

"You've never heard my poetry!"

"I've seen the source of your genes."

"I'm not as terrible as him!"

Nico laughed, tracing Will’s fingers and bringing them up to his lips.

"Oh yeah? Prove it."

"What?"

"Write me a poem. Right now."

Will huffed, pressing his face into Nico’s hair.

"I can't just make one up," he complained, slightly muffled.

"Sure you can!" Nico replied. “Who was a poet who wrote about love? A good one?”

“Lemony Snicket wrote poetry to Beatrice. He wasn’t technically a poet, though.”

“Do your version of him. Lemon Chocolate guy."

Will took a deep breath and groaned. “Fine. Expect great things from me and my talent."

"I expect nothing but the greatest."

"Alright then. I will love you til the last sword clatters to the ground; til wounds cannot be healed; til the gods fall and the titans screams are no more; til all the tears of the broken hearted flood the earth and drown us in their despair. I will love you as the fire loves its kindling and as surely as the world shall end. I will love you until every last star has imploded - burning brightly but never as bright as the light in your eyes - and until the universe has expanded to hold all my feelings and shrunk into nothing so that all that’s left is love in the vast unknown. I love you with the tenderness of a mother’s kiss and the harshness of a raging wind. I love you with everything and nothing at once until all that’s left is that unknown that I fall into over and over again knowing that you’ll catch me.”

Silence.

“Will, what the fuck?"

"Was it that bad?"

"You just made up a whole paragraph of the soppiest poetic shit ever. Where on earth did that come from?"

"Certainly not my genes."

Nico twisted slightly so he could look up at Will’s smiling face and pull his gently down into a kiss.

"I can't write poetry," he mumbled against Will’s lips, "but ditto, or whatever."

"Or whatever?" Will laughed but he didn't pull away.

"Shut up. I'm bad with talking. Better at doing."

Nico surged forward and kissed his boyfriend deeply, trying to convey everything he felt.

Words are the typical form of poetry but actions are equally as beautiful.